Porcelain Lives
by haikomori
Summary: Cracking...bit by bit. There is no way around it. Each of them is starting to break. There are little chips at the edges. They keep trying, and in turn, they keep breaking. How long until they are shards? Dust? A fine powder, swept away in the wind?
1. Serah

**I don't know. I shouldn't be starting anything...I have things to do and people to reply to. But...I don't have the heart for it right now.** **I just don't. I hope anyone following my other stories will forgive me, but this little series of one-shots will be a way for me to let off some unhappy steam. I don't know how many I'll do or if I'll even post them all, but writing them makes me feel better somehow. But enough of me. **

**The main character will change with each update. Each character gets one chapter, unless stated otherwise. There are spoilers. For now, that is all.  
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**I thank those who read this, for taking the time to do so. **

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><p>She is afraid.<p>

There is no way around it, she is simply afraid.

She has been marked as a Pulse l'Cie, the enemy of Cocoon, and for all her optimism she just can't find a way around her fate; a monster or crystal. All of her loved ones, all of the people she cares for, are now at risk because of her very existence. She is their enemy now-either kill or be killed.

Serah is terrified of what it means.

And so, she takes her life in her hands and tries to break it up. Shatter it like glass and drop the shining shards to the floor. Anything at all that would help ease the pain somehow. Alleviate the burden for both her and her family and friends. She does not need Lightning sick with worry-after everything she has done for Serah, the least she can do is give her sister the chance to have peace. Even if it means her death or departure or whatever it is she will do.

Serah thinks of never being able to enter her house again-never have Lightning's cooking and never smiling at her sister again. Shudders at the idea that maybe Lightning will hate her, now that she has been branded a l'Cie.

But even before that, she has to tell Snow that they're over.

_It's better-_

_It'd be better for him...if I just disappeared..._

But then he does the unthinkable-he runs after her, tells her no. That he will stay. And later, he even proposes to her under brilliant, flashing, neon fireworks. They kiss on his bike and he gives her an engagement necklace. Tells her that he loves her no matter what-that somehow they will fix it.

He is kind enough to even tell Lightning with her. And in that moment, under the night sky with the fireworks and the man she loves in front of her, giving her his strength, she feels loved. She is safe again. There is no brand on her arm, ticking away at her life. She is not a monster, bound to destroy Cocoon, or be destroyed in turn.

She is Serah Farron. And Serah Farron is standing in front of her future husband, who has managed to fill her with more love than she thought possible. Who gave her a token of this same, endless devotion in the form of a necklace and is swearing to stand by her side.

Who just kissed her under the fireworks and promised to have a family with her.

It's so much that Serah can't help the sob that escapes her, or the way her heart stutters in her chest, trying to take it in. Snow hugs her and soothes her and she is so _grateful _to this man for showing her that she is not alone. She grabs him, holds him, and thanks him over and over.

But when they are walking home, reality hits her again. Strikes her core and sucks the breath from her lungs in a single motion. Her legs wobble and Snow is glancing back at her, his eyes wide with concern. He rushes when she drops to her knees and gasps, her hands grasping her arm where the brand has been etched.

Serah sobs.

Her brand advances.


	2. Lightning

**Onward. Again, thank you to those reading this. These one-shots are proving to be a nice outlet. **

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><p>Lightning hated Snow. <em>Hated<em> him. The moment he had stepped into her sister's life, the second he smiled his big stupid grin and said he was in love with Serah, she knew.

This was the man who would ruin everything.

She didn't say it out loud, but she thought it, felt it in the deepest of her bones. Knew it from the way he swaggered around, proclaiming to be some kind of hero while her sister followed him like some lost puppy, eating up his words. She saw the light in her sister's eyes, the mirror of her own, and knew she was smitten with this man. Infatuated. In love with him. It didn't matter. Serah was leaving her, walking away from their small family to be with the idiot.

Envy was an ugly beast and had settled in her stomach and made frequent visits to her heart. She resented him for taking Serah away, whisking her off to give her the fairytale ending and leaving Lightning in the dust. A broken, forgotten, and easily discarded piece of trash. But how could she complain? She wasn't warm, but rather the distant chill of the first winter morning. Her military lifestyle meant for lonely evenings at home, and hadn't Serah been with her enough? She deserved to be happy, just as much as Lightning.

Except Lightning was sure Serah couldn't be happy with Snow. Convinced of it. Wanted so badly to be right and loathing _both _of them when they barged in on _her_ birthday, dropping some garbage about Serah being a l'Cie, Snow shouting about taking care of her. And then she got wind that they got engaged...

She had been devastated. A hollow field had opened before her, and she walked along it, lashing out at anyone and everyone. Yet she was blind. Blind then to what her sister was saying, trying to tell her.

Before Lightning could think, before she could even comprehend what had happened, her sister was gone in a flash of bright light. Turned to crystal. A pretty statue. She was gone from her reach, from Snow's, and from the world's. And she had no one but herself to blame for it.

By the time Lightning could see again, Serah was gone, and a path that lead to death -_Eden-_ had been laid in front of her.

It was the world's one and only mercy.


	3. Sazh

**Thank you to those reading this. Thank you, those who had voiced their thoughts. It means the world to me. My slump is broken, and my dark mood gone. But that doesn't mean I can't continue. I hope you will read on as well.**

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><p>Sazh is a forgiving man. He loves kids, wants to see them taken care of, and knows all to well the consequences of losing sight of them for even a moment.<p>

He knows it all too well.

So he does not yell at Vanille for her constant pep, even though it grates him sometimes. In fact he appreciates her for it, because someone needs to stay optimistic, and he knows it isn't him. He also feels the need to take Hope in even when the kid tries to push away from him, angry and sullen.

With Hope he can only shake his head and wonder. Dajh had lost his mother before he could really remember her face; Hope lost his mother in a field of battle, violently, and with plenty of memories. He cannot imagine what it would be like, and wonders what Dajh will do if _he_ dies before promptly trying to forget it.

Sazh is patient with Lightning even when she hits him and tries to abandon him. He is tolerant of Snow even though the man has a lot of bravado and is a little too delusional for his own good. So Sazh can rightly pride himself with patience and forgiveness and responsibility, the things a father should have.

That he must have.

All of it-the tiny world he had created with these people-with this person- breaks when the truth comes. The truth crushes him, enrages him. Something horrible and grotesque just seems to rip from his chest, seething with need and desperation. It needs to hurt something, Sazh needs to hurt something, and it is the very person who has taken his son from him. The person who has caused him this despair, this anger, this unbelievable loss-

_Dajh-I-I lost you-_

Another face to add to precious others, another body, -his _son- _is now beyond Sazh's touch. Only this time there is something he can strike. Vanille is there to take the punishment she deserves. She has taken Dajh from him. Wove the events that lead to Dajh receiving his brand. It is the last thread…the final piece of string has snapped. He has nothing now and Vanille had offered herself, knowing her crimes.

Vanille…who is still very much a kid.

Again, Sazh has nothing. All gone. Lost. Beyond him.

Except himself. He still has himself…and that is something. It must be something, because if a man does not have himself, he might as well throw in the towel.

And Sazh is a patient man. A forgiving man. He loves kids and thinks parents should be responsible when the children can't be. That one should never lose sight of their child.

He does not want Vanille's face added to the ones he has lost. She is just a kid-like Hope and Dajh-_I'll __see you soon. I promise. I'll see you soon. _

He is a forgiving man.

This is what he thinks as he presses the barrel to his head.


	4. Fang

**I thank you all for the tremendous support. I will get these out quicker for you all. Thank you, and I hope you will enjoy this as well. Your words...all of them, are a great encouragement to me. All I can do as a thank you, is continue giving you these, and hope that it brings you the same joy. Again, thank you. **

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><p>Fang wasn't sure what she thought when she was told that <em>she<em> was Ragnarok. At another time, another century, she might have felt pride. Pride that she had tried to rip Cocoon from the sky in an effort to save her people from what was bound to be destruction.

She would save Vanille from destruction. Death.

Her Focus.

Later, she didn't think of the deaths her rampage caused, for it had been blissfully wiped from her memory. In turn though, this lapse would haunt her. Had she been able to remember the screams and the terror, perhaps any thought of pride would have been morphed into throat closing guilt. Had she remembered the tang of copper, both in her mouth and in the air, she might have turned away, knowing where it came from. But all of that was another time, lost in history or immortalized as C'ieth stones that were bound to turn to dust.

She didn't know what to think anymore.

Cocoon was the home of her companions, a group of unfortunate people dragged into a mess not their own, their lives torn from their fingers. They could not, nor would she let them be, as important to her as Vanille was. Vanille was her blood, the reason she fought those monsters. She would tear the world apart for Vanille.

What frightened her though, was that she would look at these people, and feel that surge of protection. When Lightning was bent on one knee and gasping for breath, the beast that threatened her would be torn asunder. The blood was nothing new to her after all. When Snow took a few hits too many, she'd stand in until he stood back up. When Hope, the youngest of their troop, fell to the ground and did not get back up, not one foe was left standing in the wake of her fury.

It frightened her.

Not the blood or the guts or the constant smell of death. Not her own hands, forever sullied in the name of protecting those whose hands were a little cleaner than her own. She had learned to throw away the past. She knew it could not be undone and to dwell would only distract her. _Protect what's there, not what was._ And she did, without even batting an eye.

But when she saw Sazh lose his grip on his gun and she jumped in front of him, taking another blow, she wondered. _How far will I go for these people? Vanille is one thing, but they're-_

She couldn't finish the thought, couldn't fathom what it meant. What it meant for her to even consider it. Suddenly she had more and more people she had to protect, and she would destroy the world to do it. Yet she knew _they_ wouldn't. They would not let a world die to save themselves. Even Vanille was willing to sacrifice herself for the rest of Cocoon.

Fang could not, would not, agree.

And each step forward, through Oerba and to the Fal'Cie, was a constant reminder of a decision she would soon have to make. Save Cocoon. Save her new friends.

Cocoon.

Friends.

Cocoon.

_Family._

There was bloodshed no matter her course.


	5. Hope

Hope did not like to admit when he was afraid. He had worked hard to prove to this group of strong and talented people that he was a capable warrior; that despite being the youngest, he could stand tall and hold his own. His stumbles were many though. He knew this, and a burning shame would well inside him every time he made a mistake. He would feel it ignite his skin and would, just as quickly, feel himself crumple like a blackened scrap of paper. He did not handle shame well. He did not handle weakness well. They were just things that held him back and he was already far behind the others. He could not fall further now.

It was when he was alone that it hit him hardest.

Nightmares. Nightmares were a sign of a different kind of weakness. And just as when he made a mistake on the battlefield, Hope would wake feeling ashamed. He would crumple like that piece of blackened paper, but his heart would still beat madly in his chest. His late night visions would haunt him, whisper the words he so wanted to escape. But what got him were the images.

His mother falling backward into an unknown void. Explosions all around him, fierce and loud.

Sometimes though, he would find her in the darkness of his dreams. He would be wandering around a street and ruined bits of buildings would be scattered everywhere. He was always alone in these dreams, with only the crackle of flames and the occasional crumbling rocks to provide him with any sound. Metal scraps would be hanging from the loose structures of the broken buildings held only be thin wires, and it was always dark with the exception of the fires. He would walk for a while, witnessing the aftermath of the carnage, seeing some bodies broken on the ground. He never flinched though. Even in his dreams he tried to exude toughness. This lack of fear born from his experiences even though death still terrified him to no end.

Then he'd find her.

She was always in the same spot, always in the same position, and always very, very dead. Her body would be broken, her arm resting at an odd angle, perhaps a leg dislocated or actually resting a few feet away. There was always blood, fresh and oozing even though she was already dead. Her skin would be torn, fraying from her arms and legs and face, like she was peeling away. Her mouth would be hanging open. But what got to Hope were the eyes. They were not green anymore, but a deep black. They were holes.

Holes for eyes.

Just _holes._

He would wake up then, with his mother's eyes still burned into his memory. Even though they weren't really eyes. Just empty black holes that sucked everything up. Swallowed him whole. Consumed all light around him.

It was just another weakness though, one that he would overcome on his own. The others did not need to hear him complain about something that was done. Something that no one could change. Besides, if they knew he was still thinking of his mother, a whole new array of problems would arise. Lightning would lower her eyes, shaking her head in silent disappointment. The oaf's spark would die in an instant. Vanille would try and hug him, telling him it was all right when it just _wasn't._

He did not want that. He didn't want more lies that were supposed to be comforting but weren't.

So he'd just go back to sleep when he had the dream, bury it in his mind. He could examine it later, when there was time and he did not have to be strong. He would ignore it for now so that he could keep walking forward. No nightmare could harm him then. Only the beasts that happened to get in his way.

He would not think about it. He would not think about the constant nightmares.

Of his mother lying dead on the ground, arms disconnected like some broken doll.

Of all the blood around her.

Of her empty, black hole-eyes.


	6. Vanille

**I hated writing this. Well, not hate, but mixed. I had a different one for Vanille, but I lost it somewhere and just can't seem to find it. It's been the reason this has been held up so long, but I finally swallowed my annoyance and tried to write out a new one. I don't know how it turned out-and I may go back and rewrite it later. But for the sake of pushing forward, I'm posting it.**

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><p>Even though they haven't spoken much, Vanille feels like she knows Lightning. There's something of Fang in her, and even without that, the way Lightning holds herself feels warm. Vanille doesn't have to walk up to the soldier and ask her what she's thinking about or why she's scowling-she doesn't have to ask Lightning how she feels because she already feels it inside of her.<p>

And standing with the others, watching them struggle with the fact that they have all been branded as traitors and handed death sentences in the form of tattoos and magic, something presses upon her. It sits on her shoulders and lays against her body, trying to drag her down into some dark pit, where hands are reaching for her, pulling at her hair and screaming her name.

Vanille shakes her head and absently feels for her own brand, her body warming despite the frozen air of Lake Bresha. She closes her eyes and forms the symbol of prayer of her people, and she tries to silence the shrill voices that are still screaming her name in her head.

She glances at Lightning and wonders. _Lightning isn't her real name, is it? It can't be. But then...why did she name herself-_

Vanille halts and looks up, the air escaping her. She shudders and shakes her head, swallowing and biting her lip. She can feel her chin trembling but refuses to grab the cathartic experience of tears. She does not deserve it, and on some level, she knows Lightning thinks the same.

Looking down, Vanille lets the words wash over her.

_Liar. _

_Destroyer. _

_Harbinger. _

_Family killer. _

And she has done those things-she has ruined several families-torn them apart in her own desperate attempts to break free of her fate. She has taken a mom away from her son, a-wife-to-be from her husband, a sister from the other. With her hands she has ripped them away from all they knew and all they held dear, even as they clung so desperately to those hands that would have held them close and kept them safe. All so that _she_ could somehow get away.

Instead, she has dragged others down with her.

"Come on, Vanille!" She jumps when her name is called but smiles. Her cheeks are aching and the corners of her lips try to twitch down, but she forces them up. She hurries after the others, slapping Sazh on the back and nodding at Lightning. Then she goes to Hope and hangs over him, poking his ribs until she gets a reluctant, reflexive smile.

And in her head she wonders, _What name would I need to describe what I have done?_


End file.
